Beggars Banquet Revisited

Beggars Banquet was The Stones on the cusp of greatness. After the psychedelic misstep of Satanic Majesties, The Stones had to reinvent themselves. The Beatles may have created a masterpiece (Sgt Pepper) out of psychedelia, but the Stones were different- they were like the fab four's younger, delinquent brother. Keith Richards was more Street Fighting Man than flower power child. And for all Jagger's vocal bravura, this album is about Keef, the human riff machine who lived and breathed rock and roll, and took over the reigns of control. It was he who was primarily responsible for the creative high of this and the following three albums (Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers and Exile...) which, put together, form perhaps rock and roll's strongest purple patch. He cut the tunes and Jagger did the words. But as much as anything his contribution is intangible: it's attitude. The kind which is dripping all over his riffs and solos. As in 'Stray Cat Blues', where his guitar provides the perfect counterpoint to Jagger's lusty lyrics, full of sleaze and insinuation.

 This was 1968: the swinging sixties were closing and a darker, druggier time beckoned for Dartford's finest in the following decade. With Altamount's chaos and Brian Jones's demise next year The Stones stood on the edge of a precipice. And damn did they jump off that ledge.

From the first few bars of opening salvo 'Sympathy For The Devil' it's clear that the Stones have made an almighty leap- Jagger's whoops amid crazy marimba style bongos - is at once unhinged, supremely danceable, and very unhippy. It was a triumphant two fingered salute to convention and politeness.

This was the time when the Stones started consciously exploiting their own mythology - the "Would you let your daughter sleep with a Rolling Stone?" rhetoric which Andrew Loog Oldham used so effectively a few years earlier. They found their niche in provocation, raw sex appeal and sheer viscerality. It would all be quite aggressive were it not for the strength of the hooks and Jagger's (large) tongue being planted firmly in his own cheek. At this album's best it evokes the lovable sense of mischief at which they came to excel.

 Musically, this was the back-to-their-roots album. Said roots being the blues. But it was a new blues: rather than reverentially trying to ape greats such as Howlin Wolf, Robert Johnston et al, the stones used it to create something new, poppier and sexier. And, more importantly, their own. A white (middle class man's) blues. As odious as this sounds -it fucking worked. With a new tuning (open G stolen from Ry Cooder) under his belt, Richards felt it was like learning the guitar again. It was also like restarting the band again. Indeed, post Brian Jones all the great Stones riffs were in this tuning - and its force is firmly felt on 'Street Fighting Man' opening side B track and archetypal Stones song.

Primal, delinquent and gloriously vigorous 'Street Fighting Man' is The Stones condensed into three minutes. It's also strangely incongruous on this album, being less bluesy and more poppy than the surrounding fare.

This freshness is seen in the sheer gusto of the performances - the raw but sensational riff of 'Stray Cat', and the snarling belligerence of Jagger throughout being perfectly in unison. Jagger excels throughout celebrating the simple, seedy and working class.

 It seems once rid of the talented but consummate fuck up Jones (he was merely a bit part player by this stage), Richards could truly lead from the front and become closer to Jagger. Witness his restrained inch perfect solo on 'Sympathy..' or the slide lick on 'Jigsaw Puzzle' for evidence of his astonishing development from Chuck Berry wannabe to guitar deity.The album comes across as a relaxed but ferociously tight jam session. The meandering 'Salt Of The Earth' or the Richard's sung cover 'Prodigal Son' which sounds like a few thoughts being nonchalantly stuck together with a blues lick, being a case in point. And the subject matter too, girls, sex, all the gloriously unclean pleasures of life: it's plain as day that they felt at home.

The more I listen to this album the more I feel it is one of their best -definitely their best blues rock album- and perhaps even their finest record. It gives off such a good vibe- an ideal, knees up, drinking companion. It's so immediate and good fun that I think it might be my favourite if not their best (Exile.. is pretty unbeatable). As far as down and dirty Rock n Roll goes this is peerless. As good as anything they released.

Just an outlaw band of street urchins with a gift for provocation and a keen awareness of their own image. No ballads, no pomposity, just the god damn fucking blues.